986
by Gwilym
Summary: Kornelis is plunged right into the heart of the 43rd Hunger Games as tribute. Can he survive while holding on to his humanity?


Kornelis pushed against the cold, colourless tube, praying that he wouldn't fall over. He pushed his grubby fingers against the glass, throwing his weight against the floor. Finding the strength to halt his final path into likely death was an act of pure desperation and he knew it. The metal plate beneath his feet had begun to ascend and a new wave of nausea swept over him. He thought back to the sobbing face of his mother, her clammy, pale fingers intertwined in his. He remembered the look of dread soaking her tears and the panic which filled the air in their final meeting. His father had just stood in the background, a blank expression hovering over his usually happy exterior. They had brought the baby with them, Kornelis' new sister. A little girl. Juniper. Rosy cheeks had beamed up at him; no clue to the situation which had fallen on the family. At least his parents had another child. Now the only face he had to calm him was the augmented and tatooed face of his stylist. It wasn't the face of someone who worried that they were sending someone to die. It wasn't a human face.

As his head emerged above the lip of the tube, he clung on to the natural images of his family. Not to the weeping faces which had greeted him inside the district hall. He thought back to one of the best days of his life. A family day out, shared with the four of them. It was something that was just theirs; something that the Capitol could never take away. Coming from District Nine had never left them with much. But they took a blanket, the baby and some food. They spent hours in the sunlight, enjoying the day they had together. Laughing and bathing in each other's company. Of course, they hadn't thought about the Reaping. Kornelis had considered clinging onto the absolute best day of his life but that had always remained too precious to him. A memory which would just cause him to weep, an image that would detract the attention of sponsors.

There was a girl back home in Nine. He couldn't bring himself to say her name to himself right now. He hadn't said anything to his mentor about her. Nothing had been told to Caesar and the inquisitive eyes of the citizens in the Capitol. She was going to be his forever and his memory of her untainted. If he shared anything about her now she'd be forevermore associated with these terrible games. He didn't want to do that to her.

His mentor had attempted to make him come out of his shell. Kornelis knew that he didn't want the citizens in the Capitol to know anything about him. They could wander round in their miserable, petty lives, betting on his death without the luxury of knowing who he was. He'd adopted a cold exterior much unlike the calm, joyous self he often tried to exude. All his friends would see right through the act, but out there in the Capitol, the waiting eyes just wanted drama. Something to excite them!

The metal plate came to a halt, sending a jolt through his back. His eyes scoured the arid landscape which stretched out before him. Sand blew in swirls across the plain, and cacti littered the yellow expanse. He caught site of the Cornucopia, glittering in the golden sunlight. It stood on the top of a mound of cracked and dried land. An assortment of prizes was housed inside. By the looks of the arena, the rucksacks most likely contained water and lots of it. No use having a Hunger Games where the tributes were thirsty. Blood always piqued more interest from the capital than death by dehydration.

Kornelis fumbled with the amulet around his neck. This one bit of home would get him through the day. Seeing about the rest would have to wait. As the voice of the countdown blared out, he darted his eyes from left to right, taking in the positions of the other tributes. Each was equidistant from the Cornucopia, spread around the mound. The gradient of the slope looked tough and he weighed up the need for something against the bloodbath which would no doubt ensue. He took the safest option. Having been given a score of five by the Gamemakers hadn't exactly put him in the most confident of positions.

He took note of who he was adjacent to. One of the girls from Six stood to the left, the faintest of tears seeming to appear in his eyes. He hoped she'd make it through the day but the weakness would probably cost her a life. To his right Culet stood tall, strong and confident. He was ready to win this game. If it was up to him the bloodbath would allow him time to kill all twenty three other tributes and he'd become the hailed killer from District One. Not a new concept. Kornelis was terrified.

Lorell was about six along from him in the ring of tributes. Her long straw hair was being whipped up by the wind. Since childhood they had been acquaintances, nothing else. They had just the occasional hello whilst at school. Now the circumstances had flung them together. No time for being sentimental if it came down to it, Kornelis thought to himself. He wasn't sure if he could really do it. Could he ever bring himself to take the life of another tribute? Well, this wasn't a time to get squeamish. He wasn't going to get far in the 43rd Hunger Games by letting past relationships stand in his way. The thought sounded so crude.

The gong sounded out and what followed was chaotic. Chancing nothing, and following the instructions of his mentor, he grabbed the nearest pack to him then tried to turn on his heels and run. Instead he was met with the gritted teeth of Culet. He was wielding a knife already. The boy was really cut-throat. Kornelis stumbled backwards and then the adrenaline hit him. He ran so fast he felt his legs might just exceed the position of his body. He felt the air blow past his face as the sweat began dripping from his hair. He dodged amongst the tributes scrabbling for the supplies. He skated around the hill until he could see a clear path for mile ahead. He took that route.

Kornelis wanted nothing to do with the deaths which were happening right now. He could hear a horrific orchestra of screams and shouting. His mind tried to block it out but it kept breaking through. Girls and boys were crying out in pain, shouting various things: names, places, cries for aid. They were someone's children. They were people with a past. Kornelis just kept running, ignoring the symphony of pain that emanated from the Cornucopia. He tried not to think about the young people they might be, or might have been. He tried to evict that kind of thinking from his mind and see them as his enemies. It wasn't fair.

He tumbled forward and fell flat on his face. A branch had been sticking out of the ground. Well that was sure to send away any potential sponsors. After his stylist had dressed him and Lorell in the burlap sacks he had given up quite a lot of hope. Kornelis wasn't up to date with fashion in the Capitol but he was sure that grain bags weren't exactly high-end wear. Tripping over might just have sent it into a no hope zone. Maybe he should just run to the cornucopia and give up now? End the pain and misery quickly. No. He had promised his parents he would try; at least for a little while.

A small mound was sticking out of the ground. He lent back against it and decided to take in the surroundings: dry, hot, sandy and lifeless. No plants. No mutts. Just the large dessert and the occasional cactus. He rooted through the pack he had randomly grabbed. A blanket? What good was that going to do in a desert? There was some iodine for treating water. Did that mean he had water? He found a large tin container. Hopeful and thirsty he unscrewed the cap. Empty. Well that was great. If he was going to be stuck in arena without an empty bottle, it would be the one without water. He looked up at the sun and smiled at it, acknowledging the probable death by heat exhaustion or thirst it would bring. His lips had already begun to dry out.

His hand gripped a torch. While it provided no immediate help, he was sure it could be potentially useful during the nights. Then again, it could draw unwanted attention to him in this large expanse.

Kornelis surveyed the arena spanning as far as his eyes could see. The bright sunlight reflected off of the cracked, dusty floor. It created a haze that made the rays dance and cause a fuzzy, misted horizon.

A silhouette appeared over the rim of the horizon and he could see three children- no, enemies- coming toward him. They appeared to be holding long thin sticks most likely with the added bonus of a sharp end. It could have been spears, or something much more terrifying. Kornelis wasn't keen on experiencing whatever it was first hand, however. He decided to make a feeble attempt at concealing himself behind the mound. He curled onto his hand and knees, feeling the sand push into the grazes which had formed from his earlier fall. The coarse grain sent new waves of pain through his body.

The sight which beheld him round the other side possessed just that glimmer of hope which he needed. That little bit of good luck which he needed to pull him through. An opening into a small tunnel that led downwards was in the mound. Better into the unknown than face the tributes, most likely Careers. As he crawled into it, the hard sand changed into soft mud. Well this really was a weird hybrid arena. Kornelis wasn't about to complain. Soft mud meant the potential for water. So his mind was made up.

He thought back to a story his mother had read to him as a child. About a girl who had followed a rabbit down a hole into a mystical realm where nothing had made sense. A land with queens who chopped off heads, rabbits who were late, cards that painted flowers different colours, cats that smiled. In his head he hoped for something childlike. But what awaited him would only be more death. After all this was the Hunger Games. In another moment, Kornelis went down after the water, never once considering how in the world he was to get out again.


End file.
